


FFXIV Write 2020

by Linasondrea



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Angst, Arguing, Bargaining, Crack, Dancing, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Implied Servitude, Implied Sexual Servitude, Lecher, Nonagenerian, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Peacocks, Teasing, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linasondrea/pseuds/Linasondrea
Summary: My submissions for the FFXIV Write 2020 Challenge. Rating and warnings could change as I continue writing. Multiple pairings and multiple points of view.Some of these might be expanded on later, in other stories that I write, if the desire strikes.
Relationships: Ascians/Minfilia (implied), Aymeric de Borel & Warrior of Light, Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva, Nabriales/Minfilia (implied), Warrior of Light & Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Final Fantasy Write Prompt Challenge 2020





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. I'm getting a bit of a late start on this one, just because of work. However, this chapter will simply be the table of contents. I will give warnings at the beginning of each chapter for potential spoilers, as well as any possible adult content, should any turn out that way. Title is very generic right now, as I'm not overly creative with titles for things like this.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy as I begin posting chapters.

1\. Crux

2\. Sway

3\. Muster

4\. Clinch


	2. Crux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crux: a puzzling or difficult problem: an unsolved question; an essential point requiring resolution or resolving an outcome; a main or central feature (as of an argument)
> 
> The Convocation has come across a difficult problem, that has also become their main argument in their meeting: who will take over the open seat of Emet-Selch now that it is empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy. It does have some minor spoilers, just given the what we've learned about the Fourteenth Convocation member.
> 
> I just kind of chose random Convocation members to be arguing, because I couldn't really decide at first.
> 
> Sorry if it's sort of rough, but I'm trying to get myself writing more again, and am trying to post before I second guess myself.

Were Elidibus alone in his office, he would remove his mask and pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration; as it stands, his mask must remain in place, and he cannot afford to show any annoyance. While he understands that the arguments within the Convocation of Fourteen are important, as all sides must be considered, there are days where he cannot help but wonder if some of them are simply being belligerent. Looking between the current members arguing, today is one of those days. He can simply end the argument, if he chooses; however, he feels that it would be allowing bias to take over, and that is another thing he cannot allow. Sighing softly, he feels his headache - already brought on by having to oversee the trials of two men whose penchant for mischief may even outweigh their abilities - grow as he listens to the arguing. But he does his best to focus, to assess the current situation.

At the moment, Igeyorhm and Halmarut argue their sides - rather loudly - as the two dissent on the appropriate choice for their open position of Emet-Selch. As it stands, Elidibus knows that the vote is in favor of Hythlodaeus at the moment. If he abstains - much as Azem has already done, citing her inability to make it back to Amaurot due to her current duties - the position would be offered to the man who clearly has the keener sight of the Underworld. However, the Emissary knows that the decision to vote for the more amiable of the two men stems simply from the fact that others do not care for Hades’ dour disposition. What some of their number seem to have realized, though, is that, behind the unpleasantness, is a talent they’ve not seen in ages; Hades’ mastery of magics of eld, as well as his ability to exert his will upon the Underworld and not just view it, is something that even their most powerful Emet-Selchs struggled with. To allow such abilities to be squandered would be a waste.

Halmarut slams his fists down on the podium before him, startling everyone as the sound echoes throughout the room; though he is not usually so abrasive, his passion is well known, as is his dislike for Hades. “You know that Hades is not only lazy, but entirely too volatile!” The irony of the statement seems to escape him as he continues, ignoring the looks and murmurs he receives. “He is ill-suited for a position in the Convocation, much less any position that gives him authority over anyone. We cannot guarantee he will do anything that aids our people, unless it benefits him. What happens when he decides to simply use the position for personal gain?”

“And you allow your personal dislike of the man to bias your opinion of him,” Igeyorhm retorts; she’s not overly fond of Hades herself, but she does not agree that they should dismiss him outright. “Need I remind you that Hythlodaeus was complicit in those pranks you so despise Hades for? In fact, I would not be surprised if he had more to do with them, and simply hides it better. But, because of those, you allow your views of Hades to be skewed. He has never shown any desire to gain anything at the expense of others. In fact, I have only ever seen him aiding others...when he isn’t involved in the mischief, that is.” Sighing, she knows that the admission does somewhat diminish her argument. “But what you speak of, simply giving the position to Hythlodaeus without even considering Hades, belittles the powers you know he has as well. I will not deny Hades’ bad temper; we’ve all been on the receiving end of it at one time or another, visiting the Bureau of the Architect. Nor will I make excuses for his slothfulness. However, I defend his abilities.” She pauses, doing her best to keep herself composed, knowing that giving in to anger will allow for misspoken or rash words. “I do not deny that Hythlodaeus’ sight is keener. He sees the Underworld and souls sharper than most have in ages. However, your outright refusal to even consider Hades as a potential candidate diminishes his potential, as well as abilities that our kind has not witnessed in eons.”

And there is the main point of contrition between the two sides of the Convocation, Elidibus knows. Potential and abilities. Simply choosing Hythlodaeus, they will receive abilities that are astounding. And the man is easily worked with. But Igeyorhm is not wrong, either. To ignore the abilities that Hades controls, abilities to interact with the Underworld in ways that no other can, would be a true waste of the man’s talents. “As it is now, Azem has chosen to abstain, and we have no one filling the seat of Emet-Selch,” he cuts in before another argument can begin. “That leaves twelve of us to determine which candidate is the best suited to the role as a Steward of our Star. Currently, Hythlodaeus has six votes, and Hades five. My vote will be the deciding factor, or the decision that brings us to another standstill.” The white-robed Emissary looks around the room, at each of those present. “I have heard your arguments and come to a decision. Simply based on disposition and the keenness of his sight, Hythlodaeus would be the better choice.” He turns, giving Halmarut a look at his triumphant smirk. “Remember, Halmarut, this is not about your personal feelings; what we are deciding is what is best for the Star as a whole.”

Halmarut has the decency to lower his gaze, cheeks burning at the chiding, even as murmurs break out throughout the room. It is not uncommon for Elidibus to reiterate and summarize the arguments for and against whatever their current session covers. However, it is unusual that the Emissary has not yet given his decision.

Elidibus recalls the words spoken to him as he was inducted into the convocation. He knows many of them are furious when he stands against their decisions, but it is his duty to make sure the Star and their people are properly guided. “Should I choose Hythlodaeus now, we would have a clear victor. However, I am afraid I cannot do such. Though it pains me to force this argument to continue, many of those standing against the idea of Hades receiving the position are for personal reasons; we cannot allow our own bias to affect this choice, do remember that.” The Emissary waits as the room erupts into chaos, his decision not popular amongst half of their number for certain.

“So we continue the session then?” Nabriales asks aggressively, frustrated at the continuation. “You toy with us in your decision.” He regrets the accusation as it falls from his lips, but they have spent the whole day and night arguing their points. They are all exhausted and simply wishing to have a decision.

Elidibus doesn’t flinch, knowing that the other man is hasty to speak, often regretting what is said later. “Was I or was I not the one who oversaw both trials?”

“You were.” Nabriales lowers his gaze, his words spoken softly.

“Be at east, Nabriales. I hold no anger over your words. However, it was I alone who was present at the trials, who saw the extent of powers many of you may yet be unawares. Yes, this puts our vote at a stalemate. So my suggestion is to extend the offer to both.”

The room grows silent at the suggestion; never before have they offered a position to more than one person. If both were to accept, there would be even more chaos. “And what is your suggestion should they both accept?” Lahabrea inquires. Though he isn’t certain that the approach will work, he is curious as to if the Emissary has fully considered the implications of the suggestion. He trusts Elidibu, holding no doubts that the other knows what he is doing, no matter what the other’s answer is.

The white-robed Convocation member nods at the other. “I had considered the possibility. While I do not think it is likely to happen, you are correct that it could. In that case, we administer another, more difficult trial.” Looking around he sees the others considering. “Does this outcome appease all present?” To his relief, he receives only murmured assent; he has to hold back a small smile as the others seem to be relieved simply by the fact that this allows their session to conclude.

“It seems we’ve reached an agreement, albeit a somewhat odd one.” Lahabrea looks at the door. “We will send messengers out to both men and see who accepts; should both, we will discuss any further trials. But for now, our session is concluded. Go and rest from the day. We do not meet tomorrow, so allow yourselves that comfort.” Though his tone is as even as ever, they all recognize the tease for what it is as they leave the Hall of Rhetoric.

Elidibus sighs softly as he watches the others leave, relieved that things played out as they did. He isn’t sure he would have been able to decide, had they not accepted his proposal. Now, the Emissary truly must wait to see if events play out as Azem claims they will.

##

It’s a few weeks later, after they’ve received their answer, when Elidibus receives the communication from Azem; truly, he isn’t surprised to see it in the form of a small, handwritten note, rather than over their communication lines. Of course, it does mean that it was likely sent out well before the meeting to decide who should fill their open seat. Opening the archaic and truly unnecessary form of communication - something that only Azem is wont to do - he chuckles as he reads over the single, simple sentence:

“I told you he would accept the position.”

Shaking his head, the Emissary opens a line to speak with their Traveler, smiling as he hears her voice come over the line, knowing that all is as it should be for their Star.


	3. Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sway - Move or cause to move slowly or rhythmically backward and forward or from side to side; control or influence (a person or course of action); rule; govern
> 
> Since the Scions are back after everything on the First, the Alliance leaders decide to have a bit of a party. Unfortunately for the Warrior of Light, she is not keen on the idea...and she doesn't know how to dance. Until someone decides to teach her - and thoroughly annoy her in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is extremely short and silly. I had a lot of other ideas that I wanted to write out for this prompt, but none of them were really working out. So, instead, I wrote 705 words of silliness and annoyance, courtesy of Estinien.

The Warrior of Light huffs, crossing her arms over her chest; she is not usually one to pout or make a scene, but her annoyance is palpable at the moment. Having just returned with the others from the First, she is not overly keen on the thought of a party - even if it is for her friends. Dressing up is not really Persephone’s forte, and the dress they insisted she wear is far too different from her normal armor, that she is clearly less than pleased. Having both Estinien and Gaius there, commenting on the difference it makes does not help. The silver-haired woman glares at the Elezen and the Garlean, though it does little, since she also is not allowed her weapons at the moment; they’re nearby, of course, should anything happen, but it was insisted that she take it just as easy as the Scions.

“Come now, my friend,” Thancred says, doing his best to soothe their friend, barely able to hold back his own amusement at the situation. “Perhaps a drink and a few dances will improve your mood?” He motions to several of the others in the room. “You have an abundance of admirers who would surely be willing to entertain you in doing so?”

“Not helping,” Persephone manages to grind out through gritted teeth. “Besides, don’t you have some women over there to flirt with?” Her tone is a little harsher than intended, the words simply meant to be teasing; luckily Thancred seems not to be offended. She isn’t going to tell them that she doesn’t know how to dance in this sort of setting. Oh, she’s learned various dances throughout her travels, but she’s never needed to learn dancing with a partner. Pushing back locks of silver hair, silver eyes scanning the crowd, she can’t deny that she’s happy to see everyone so relaxed. The Hyuran woman startles when a hand wraps around her wrist, Estinien dragging her onto the dance floor. “What are you doing?” Her words are hissed out as she becomes suddenly self-conscious.

“Teaching you how to dance,” Estinien murmurs, chuckling as his dance partner sputters out an excuse. “If I had to suffer through learning for events like this - which I am just as loathe to attend as you are - then you will have to suffer through my teaching.” He smirks as Persephone’s cheeks heat, a rare occasion as little seems to ruffle the woman. The Dragoon has noticed, however, that the Warrior of Light and the Scions all seem to be more open than before their most recent ordeal. “It is simple. Something that the vaunted Warrior of Light should have no trouble learning.”

Persephone smacks his arm at the teasing; she knows he can handle it, as it’s been the sort of relationship they’ve had ever since they met. He does something to piss her off, she returns the favor by smacking him. Quite similar to Alphinaud and Alisaie, she muses to herself, even as the music starts up. To her surprise, it isn’t as difficult as she was worried it would be, her body swaying to the music with Estinien. Closing her eyes, the silver-haired woman allows herself to relax, the tenseness and nervousness bleeding away. In truth, the Warrior of Light would not have cared if anyone knew that she couldn’t dance. No, it’s the fact that everyone seems to expect her to be good at everything, to excel at it all. The fact that Estinien is teaching her eases some of that, as no one seems to be able to notice that she isn’t as proficient as others.

“Now you have no excuse when Aymeric asks you to dance.” Estinien’s parting words and smirk as he pulls away, leaving her there to stare dumbfounded, says all that most around need to know. He chuckles to himself as he hears Persephone threatening him - an entirely idle threat, he knows. Giving a half-hearted wave, he nods at Aymeric, motioning over to the Warrior of Light, signaling the Lord Commander’s chance to intervene and actually get the dance he’s been desiring. Of course, he knows there will be hell to pay later, having infuriated Persephone; it will be worth it, though, he thinks.


	4. Muster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muster - assemble (troops), especially for inspection or in preparation for battle; gather together, collect or assemble; summon up; a formal gathering of troops, especially for inspection, display, or exercise; a group of peacocks.
> 
> Persephone is returning to the Rising Stones and comes across a muster, much to her annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go with the rarest, most obscure meaning of the word, so this chapter is complete and total comedy/crack. So enjoy.
> 
> It's super short, because this was all it needed to be. (A stressful week at work makes me want to write something light and comedic. So hopefully it helps other people who have had bad weeks with a laugh?)

Persephone doesn’t really know why it surprises her. Anytime someone discovers a new creature that can be tamed for a minion or a mount, everyone wants one. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when she enters Revenant’s Toll to see a muster of peacocks sitting there, their riders oohing and aahing over them. The Warrior of Light nearly turns and walks away, pretending she doesn’t see it; unfortunately, she needs to head past all of the peacocks and their owners, to make her way to the Rising Stones. Doing her best to pretend she is simply another adventurer - not wanting to get dragged into trying to clear the Aetheryte Plaza, because she knows how ornery the birds can be - she makes her way around, skirting the edges of buildings. 

“Aren’t they just stunning?!” A Miqo’te adventurer squeals out, clapping her hands together happily. “ I’m so glad that I managed to get one before they were all gone.” Her excitement is as palpable as the annoyance of the residents of Revenant’s Toll, who she seems to simply ignore. “So majestic and...kingly.”

Persephone nearly chokes on her laughter as she manages to get past the main menagerie of the creatures. She knows it’s wrong of her to laugh at the situation, but it’s simply so ridiculous that she cannot help it. A sigh from nearby has her glancing over, seeing Alisaie looking just as put-out as the permanent residents of their headquarters.

“You’re lucky you missed their arrival,” the young Elezen woman murmurs. “We thought someone was murdering something with the awful sound they make. When we rushed out, we just saw a whole flock of them.”

“Muster,” Persephone corrects. “And don’t ask how I know that’s what it’s called. I’ve had to deal with these things far too often. I had hoped that they wouldn’t have made their way over here...but I guess that hope is dashed.” Before she can say anything else, one of the peacocks lets out a shrill cry, making all nearby citizens cover their ears; it takes only a moment before the others follow suit. “I only hope the novelty of them will wear off pretty quickly, so we don’t have to continue dealing with that.”

Alisaie laughs softly, though clearly as annoyed as everyone else. “Well, hopefully the adventurers will decide that they’re done here and leave. Let someone else deal with this.”

Shaking her head in exasperation, Persephone does her best to ignore the shrill cries from the muster again as she enters the Seventh Heaven, making her way to the Rising Stones, where it is blissfully silent.


	5. Clinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clinch - Confirm or settle (contact or bargain); grapple at close quarters, especially (of boxers) so as to be too closely engaged for full-arm blows; a struggle or scuffle at close quarters; a knot used to fasten a robe to a ring or cringle, using a half hitch with the end seized back on its own part.
> 
> AU before the Chrysalis. Minfilia makes a bargain with Nabriales, to keep him from harming the Scions more than he already has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has a bargain being made and confirmed that implies servitude/sexual servitude. No actual sex in this chapter, but you have been warned.

Minfilia groans as she comes to; darkness permeates from every corner of wherever this is that the Ascian has brought her to. She knows that the Warrior of Light will come for her, but she worries. She worries because she can no longer feel Hydaelyn’s presence. She worries because she knows Moenbryda was injured in the Solar. Hands trembling - bound together by darkness - she tries to push herself upright; the best the Antecedent finds herself able to do is a sitting position. Everything is purple and red and black, rocky terrain surrounding her, broken and shattered, as if torn from something. Above her, the statue of Zodiark looms, making her shudder. She doesn’t know what Nabriales has planned, nor does she want to find out. Unfortunately, the Hyuran woman has little that she’s able to do at the moment.

The Ascian chuckles as he watches the leader of the Scions. “You are trapped here until your precious Warrior of Light comes for you,” he says mockingly. “However, who knows how long that will be? What is a few minutes out there could be ages in here. Time can flow so very differently.” He moves over in one fluid motion, kneeling in front of Minfilia, grasping her chin. “Poor Antecedent. Unable to aid your friends. Unable to even aid yourself. Powerless. Helpless. Hopeless.” Nabriales relishes the shudder that passes through the blonde woman as he looks into her terror-filled eyes. “There is little you can do about any of this, except wait and watch as we defeat your Champion.”

“You won’t win,” Minfilia insists, though her voice trembles with uncertainty. If what the Ascian says is true, he has all the time he wants to torment and torture her, all while the others are preparing to come to her aid. And with her, their enemy has the remains of Tupsimati as well. “The Warrior of Light will come, and they will defeat you.”

“You would like to believe that. But I can hear it in your voice. Your doubt, your uncertainty. What if they are unable to make it in? What if they are unable to defeat me? What if your one ally has already succumbed to her wounds? It would be all your fault, you know. Her goal was to protect you, after all.” Nabriales leans forward, smirking. “And you may never learn what has happened to her.” He trails a gloved thumb over her cheek as a tear trails down her soft flesh, the sharp metal of the claw making her breath hitch in fear. “So easily I could mar you. But it would be a shame to leave a mark on such a beautiful face. Perhaps I will keep you trapped here and go deal with them now; I would not wish for them to interfere with such important plans, after all. Best to dispatch them before they become more of a nuisance than they already are.”

“No!” The Antecedent’s cry echoes through the Chrysalis, bouncing around the rocks and crystals. Her blue eyes are wide as the grip on her chin tightens, her whole body trembling in a mix of fury and fear. “Please, don’t do that. I’ll do anything you ask. Just...do not harm the others more than you already have. They do not deserve that.”

“You’d do anything I ask, will you?” The Ascian humms in interest, lifting her chin to force her to look at him. “You know that your agreement will be seen as binding. So it would be best to clarify what you are willing to do to prevent me from going and destroying both your allies and Eorzea.” He revels in the soft whimper that escapes the woman; he knows she is a strong woman, which is what makes this so much more enjoyable. “After all, what would you do if I demanded you join our ranks? I highly doubt you would be willing to do so.”

“I…” Minfilia’s mind races as she hesitates. “I won’t join you. I won’t harm them or others. You can...do whatever you please with me, and I will not fight or resist whatever you choose to do.” Closing her eyes, she wishes she could stop the tears that run down her cheeks; the Hyuran woman has to hold back a flinch as that same clawed digit brushes over her lips.

“Mmm...that is quite the tempting offer. And does it just go for me? Or my allies as well? After all, I would not wish for them to be left out of such a delicious bargain.” Nabriales leans in so their lips are nearly touching.

Minfilia’s despair is palpable as a soft sob escapes, unable to look away. “I...yes. It goes for them as well. As long as, in return, your promise is to do no harm to them.”

“Very well. Your bargain is accepted.” Nabriales chuckles softly, pressing his lips to hers quickly, a smirk playing on his lips. Now that the deal is struck, she cannot go back on it; nor can she alter it. And she left so many avenues open. “We will bring no harm to your allies.” He doesn’t say that they will not recruit others to do it for them, though. A small wave of his hand summons a void portal to take Minfilia back to the others, the portal within the Chrysalis slowly closing, to the Scions’ dismay.


	6. Matter of Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the Convocation, the summoning of Zodiark is the only thing that will save their Star. This is a fact, not an opinion. It is their only option. 
> 
> The Fourteenth Convocation member disagrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for 5.3.
> 
> Other than that, nothing really.

The arguing is the most intense the Convocation of Fourteen has ever seen; they are truly divided - moreseo than they have ever been. And it is all due to what is happening outside the Hall of Rhetoric. Fear and desperation war with hope. To most, the sacrifice - while one they do not wish to make - is minor in comparison to the lives they can save. Surely Azem, the only dissenting party, must be able to see that? None of them wish to lose Elidibus, but even he has said that it is the only way, that this must happen.

Azem shakes her head in disbelief as she looks around the room. “Were any of you even going to tell me?” she demands. “Or have you stopped seeing me as a part of this Convocation because of my duty as the Traveler of the Star?” Her tone is clipped, even, trying not to let her emotions get away from her. But tears stream down her face at the decision they’ve come to without her. “What you are talking about is sacrificing someone so others can live! How can that be an option? How can it be our only option?”

“We have exhausted all other ideas, Azem,” Elidibus says, his voice soft. “This was not a decision made lightly. We spoke at length while awaiting your return. This is the only option we now have.” His tone is flat, his words spoken as fact.

“There has to be another way! I cannot just sit here while you try to summon this being...this Zodiark into creation. What if it does not work? You’re basing it on principles of something at a much smaller, more localized scale. This thing will be…massive, if it works. What if it takes more than one sacrifice?” Azem knows that the smaller scale summonings have worked, at the cost of their creator’s life, and those creatures seemed self-aware. “What if it does not do what you wish for it to?”

“What choice do we have?” Igeyorhm spits out. “While you go wander the lands, we are here, trying to fix everything. You may be learning about our people and our lands, but what good does that do now?! What right have you to chide us on our decisions, when you haven’t been here to witness the death and destruction? The creatures wrought of nightmare that appear in the city?”

“You think I’ve not seen it, Igeyorhm?” The Fourteenth Convocation member looks at the Martyr. “I’ve seen the same things you have, on a scale you cannot imagine. This is not isolated to Amaurot. I’ve seen these nightmares. I have fought these creatures you speak of. The destruction they bring is Star-wide.”

“Then you understand why it has to be this way,” Elidibus says, moving from his seat to approach their wandering member. “Your conviction is admirable as ever, and I appreciate your desire to prevent my sacrifice. But this decision has been made. I would like you to be there with the others, to aid them, to guide them, as only you can Azem.”

Azem opens her mouth, pulling back as Elidibus reaches out to her, a feeling of wrongness emanating from him. “I can’t. I cannot be a part of this. I’ll search for any other way to make things right, but I will not sit by and watch you kill yourself hoping that it will summon some savior that we can’t guarantee exists. If this is the Convocations course of action, then...I withdraw my oath. I cannot and will not be a part of senseless loss of lives.”

Murmurs fill the room as Azem removes her mask, turning towards the door. Elidibus bows his head, sighing. “I wish it had been different. Truly I do. In time...you will see that this was this only way. That this is fact and not opinion. Until that day...I wish you well.”


	7. Extra Credit Day: Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra Credit day Prompt: I chose the word "remember" because an idea popped into my head for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More spoilers for 5.3
> 
> Once again. Just sort of something that popped into my head and I had to jot it down. Because I very much imagine my Warrior of Light as an optimist and idealist. (My main is not named Persephone, but one of my alts is, and so I decided to use her, given that I, along with many others, call her Amaurotine version that.)

**_“Remember...Remember us. Remember...that we once lived.”_ **

Persephone stares at the stone, given to her by the shade of Hythlodaeus, Hades’ words ringing in her ears. She had simply assumed, at the time, that he meant to remember them as a people, to remember that the Unsundered world existed, and those who had lived there. But, she realizes, that there is another entreaty. She runs her fingers over the stone, the symbol of a Sun in the middle.

**_“Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler. Shepherd to the stars in the dark. Though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift, wherever you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow. For yours is the Fourteenth seat - the seat of Azem.”_ **

The melodic voice - words whispered by Hades in their native tongue - plays in her mind as she touches it. An invocation. An intent. Hades’ intent for her to  _ remember _ , not just the memory of those who lived on the Star; memories of her past life, of who she truly is. Because it wasn’t just keeping their memories alive that the man wanted. No. He wanted her to remember her past as well. And everyday, more and more returns to her. With each touch of the Constellation Stone he created for her in secret, she remembers.

A world free of the ravages of war.

A world filled with peace, prosperity for all.

A world where no one, even those not in Amaurot, wanted for anything.

A dream that she would like to see come true for the Source as it is. No suffering. No war. A world where families are not torn apart, where people can come and go as they please. 

She knows that many people would call her foolish. Naïve. And perhaps she is, but one thing she does remember is that it is simply who she has always been. And the same man who wanted her to remember, she knows would encourage it. Smiling, she picks up the stone, kissing the center gently. “I will keep my promise to you, Hades,” she whispers, standing. It won’t be easy, but she intends to do all in her power to make this world a place that the Convocation - untempered by Zodiark - would be happy to call home. Because, even if they are gone, she knows their souls live on. And one day, they will meet again, under a blue sky.


	8. Nonagenerian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonagenarian - A person who is from 90 to 99 years old
> 
> Coeli has just turned 90 and her friends decide to take her to Ul'dah for her nameday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More silliness. That's all this is. Pure silliness.

Coeli smiles as she sits down at the bar; for her nameday, her friends insisted on her joining them here. Not that she truly minds, though Ul’dah is very different from what she is used to. And it seems that she is very different than the Ul’dahn people are used to. Viera are not overly common around here, so she stands out. Even more than others, due to her traveling clothes. The blue-haired woman smiles at a man who sits next to her, insisting to purchase her a drink. 

“It’s rare to see one of your kind around here,” the man says, leering at the Viera. “But you’re a very welcome sight. So, what brings you to our lovely city of Ul’dah.”

Coeli has to hold back her own laughter as her friends giggle around her; she knows that he is trying to pick her up, and it actually amuses her. “My nameday,” she answers, her accent heavy, having rarely traveled outside of her hometown. “My friends suggested that I come here with them, so I agreed to it. And I must say, Ul’dah is a lovely city.”

“Best city in the Eorzean Alliance. And your nameday, eh? Well, maybe I can make it a special one for you? I’ve got a nice, private room here, courtesy of Momodi. We could go back there, and I could show you a really good time.” The man pauses a moment as something does dawn on him. “You are of legal age, right? Always hard to tell with other races, after all.”

“I can assure you that I am. It is my ninetieth nameday.” Coeli sips her drink to hide her smile as the man looks shocked.

“N-ninety?” His words are stammered as he stands, knocking his drink over in the process.

“Aye. Still young for a Viera. After all, our life-span is generally twice as long as other races. Sometimes more than that.” Coeli decides to tease, placing a hand on his arm. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“I...I have to go. Perhaps a raincheck on that?” The man doesn’t wait for her to answer before he hurries off, Coeli’s laughter following him.

“What is it with men here and trying to get into women’s pants? He isn’t even the first one to try to come onto me.” Coeli shrugs as she sips her drink. “And they cannot seem to understand that my race lives so much longer, meaning, when translated to Hyuran age, would put me not far off from them.” Her friends’ laughter grows at that. “Not that I particularly want to join them in any private room for anything.” Shaking her head, she turns to her friends, fully intent on enjoying her first nameday as a nonagenarian.


	9. Clamor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clamor - a loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently; shout loudly and insistently
> 
> Can't really give much more in summary, as this chapter contains spoilers for 5.2 and 5.3. Notes will contain information. Meaning notes, and the chapter have spoilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually thought about this for a bit, and the idea got me to thinking about Y'shtola's line to Elidibus in 5.3. We know that, as a Primal, one would hear the voices of those beseeching them; I would imagine that Hydaelyn and Zodiark would hear the voices of everyone, given their nature. 
> 
> So, this goes off of the cacophony of voices he would have heard during the Final Days. This takes place after Elidibus would have sacrificed himself to become Zodiark's heart.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

He hears the voices clearly; full of anguish and despair. Their world is dying. Their people are dying. So he does the only thing he can. He offers himself up as the sacrifice to save their world. He becomes one with the being that they call forth, though some of the voices rage against that as well. He knows the time will come when they understand. They will know that his sacrifice was necessary, even if it saddens and angers them.

But it doesn’t go away. The voices continue, even as he floats in blessed darkness. The fear and anger remain, accompanied by hopelessness. His sacrifice was not enough, so they feel more is needed. Only those willing, though, to join him in this endless void. Surely those who rage against the idea can understand? Those who agree wish to save their loved ones. To save their Star. The dissenting voices grow louder after the next sacrifice is made, though it saves their world. 

Things are not the same, though. Dissent seems to grow further, the life that springs from their Star different now. No longer able to harness the powers of Creation like them. Malformed creatures some call them, though others see that they are a new generation of life. The conflict between the voices tears at him; his purpose was - is - to save the world, to bring peace back. How can there be peace - how can their world truly recover - if the people continue to bicker? Division of their people is detrimental to the cause. 

When another sacrifice is suggested, half of the new life to bring back those they lost - would it actually work, he wonders? - the opposing faction’s voices rise to a feverish pitch, rebelling against the idea. Do they not want their lost loved ones back? Surely there must be a mistake, he reasons, for who would not want to see those they lost?

He feels the rage around the dissenting faction, refusing to give in to the will of the others; except for one calm, reassuring voice. A voice that tells them not to judge their brethren so quickly, though they disagree as well. Surely he can work with this person? They must be willing to understand...to compromise. He simply has to return to them, to his people.

After all, it is his duty. Though there will be those who disagree with his decisions, with his views, he must guide the Star and mankind on its proper course. It is his duty.

Pain strikes him as the first blow is struck from the other being they’ve summoned; he can feel all that happens, and knows he must pull away. He must fix this. He must reason with them, get them to dispel this creature they’ve called forth, for it threatens the fabric of reality. Through the pain, he wills himself back; he must find the others. He must find the dissenters. He must bring them all together.

##

Elidibus opens his eyes, the bright morning sun making him wince even under the mask. The voices are gone for the first time in ages. Did he succeed in bringing them together? Do they understand the futileness of the bickering?

Sitting, he looks around, a sense of wrongness taking him. He sees Emet-Selch and Lahabrea, but where is everyone else? What has happened to Amaurot? To their world? He cannot sense it as he once did, as if it no longer exists. Horror overtakes him as he recalls the pain, as he remembers watching in horror, only able to exert his influence and protection over those closest to him, as the very fabric of reality was torn apart; their world is no more, split between ten and three. He stands, the arid wasteland of the moon he stands on overlooking the heart of their world, the Source of everything.

No matter what it takes, he vows, he will make things right. Their world, and their people, mankind...it will be as it should be. He will guide it along its proper course, returning all to how it once was. He swears on his title of Elidibus.


	10. Lush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lush - (of vegetation) growing luxuriantly; very rich and providing great sensory pleasure
> 
> Spoilers if you haven't read the new Tales From the Shadows story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a hard time with this one at first. However, reading the Tales From the Shadows this morning spawned this idea.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Azem looks around as she steps onto the small island, the volcano at the center releasing smoke and ash threateningly; though the idea was that people would leave of their own accord, she can see that it isn’t the case. She’s made the right decision in coming. After all, were something of this scale to be happening in Amaurot, everyone would insist on saving the city. Why should they not treat this island, this village the same way?

Of course, the Traveler knows that it is natural that this occurs, but they can still prevent the countless deaths, the loss of such a verdant island. And that’s why she gave Elidibus the excuse she did, about the grapes. In truth, she knows she could be censured - again - but that does not stop her. She is only doing what is right. Looking at the concept she holds - courtesy of Hythlodaeus, of course - she looks around. The land is alive, teeming with flora and fauna seen nowhere else on their Star. The grass, the forests, everything is so lush, all thanks to the presence of the volcano.

She does hope that the excuse of the grapes, of the flora and fauna is enough to convince the rest of the Convocation, though she expects to at least hear lectures from most of the others - especially Emet-Selch, due to her recklessness. But this is how it should be; they can’t just sit around and watch as people of their Star lose their lives to something they can prevent.

“So...the grapes?” Emet-Selch’s voice drawls, sounding far from amused, startling his friend.

Azem turns around, sheepish expression readable by the other. “Y-yes,” she stammers out. “They can only be found here. As well as a lot of the flora and fauna. As Stewards of this world, we can’t just let them be destroyed, can we?” Even to her, the excuse sounds flimsy. Or maybe it’s simply because she doesn’t tend to lie to the other.

“You’ll have to work on that argument if you want the others on the Convocation to believe it.” Emet-Selch’s annoyance is palpable as he shakes his head, sighing. “I assume the plan is to use Ifrita to draw out the aetherial energy and take it elsewhere?”

She nods, glancing at the volcano. “Yes. That is what I intend to do.”

“Even if you’re censured by the Convocation?”

“Yes. My mind is made up. Look around you, Hades.” Knowing now that he’s clearly come alone, she is comfortable with the familiarity. “Can you really just stand by in Amaurot while this is destroyed? No others from the Convocation have been here. I’ve seen this land, these people. They won’t leave. Not only will we lose all of this,” she motions around to the lush landscape, teeming with life, “but we will also lose all of these people, who have only ever known this island as their home.”

Emet-Selch sighs, perhaps a touch overdramatically. “I’m not the one you have to convince, Persephone. You’ll need to work on your argument and your lying skills before we return to Amaurot.”

Azem’s eyes widen under her mask. “You’ll...help?”

“Of course. As you implied, it is our duty to protect all of our people, though this is something naturally occurring. However, if they ask it of me, do remember that I am simply doing this so you don’t get yourself killed summoning Lahabrea’s concept.”

Azem laughs softly, nodding. “Well, I appreciate that sentiment as well.” She turns to look up at the volcano, certain that this will work now.


	11. Avail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avail - help or benefit; use or take advantage of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More spoilers! Yay?
> 
> This one has spoilers for the new story/5.2 and 5.3.
> 
> Basically, Elidibus' words and entreaties avail him naught when trying to convince Azem to return to them in the Final Days.

They all insist that it will be of no use, that there is no benefit in looking for her, that Azem will not listen. In truth, Elidibus thinks that they hope her refusal to listen will hope to sway him. Though they would never say it - especially those who have always opposed Azem’s decisions - they do not wish to see him sacrifice himself, to become Zodiark’s Heart. But, he knows he is the correct choice to do so. The only choice, really, if Lahabrea is correct and the one who is sacrificed influences the will of what they are summoning. The others often seem to forget that, though he is still much younger than him, he was chosen for a reason.

He finally finds her alone, in a field of flowers - a field of Asphodel - holding her broken mask in hand. Elidibus knows she can fix it if she truly wishes to, but the way she holds it, shoulders slumped as her fingers trace the cracks, speaks volumes in regards to her feelings of helplessness...of despair...of betrayal. And he hates that some of it is his fault. “Azem,” he says softly, still using the title that she has supposedly walked away from.

“That title is no longer mine to answer to, esteemed Emissary,” she replies, voice hoarse from yelling, from crying. “If I’ve not moved far enough from Amaurot, I will leave just after this brief respite.” Setting the mask down amongst the flowers, she tries to steel herself for this conversation; though Elidibus has always been kind and understanding, willing to listen and give her a chance, she knows that even he was furious with her stepping down, breaking the oath she’d swore. “I merely needed a moment before I continued the journey.”

“I am not here to chide you. Nor am I here to run you off, Azem.” Elidibus’ heart aches at the sorrow in her words, at knowing that their actions have pushed her away. He kneels before her, placing one gloved hand over hers, seeing the way the tremble slightly. The Emissary knows that she has always been one to act on her emotions, and it has always been something he has admired in her. “I know you disagree with the decision that has been made. I’m fairly certain most of the Convocation agrees with you, as well. I know you all worry for me and for our people, not wanting to lose any more than we already have.” He smiles, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “Nabriales and Fandaniel spoke in haste, out of anger and fear and desperation. But that does not excuse their words, nor the pain they caused you. And it doesn’t excuse our inaction, allowing them to do it with no repercussions. I wish, with all my heart, I could change what was said and done, but we cannot change the past.” He reaches up to cup her chin, turning her to face him, frowning at the bruise on her cheek. “They have been chastised properly for their actions.”

Persephone chuckles softly, even as she shakes her head. “My conduct was no better. My words and actions started the round of fisticuffs, and I’m fairly certain they came out worse than I did. But...why have you truly come to find me? Emet-Selch I could understand…” Her words trail off, an ache filling her chest that he didn’t come.

“He wanted to. In fact, he was getting ready to leave when I approached him. I requested that he allow me to. He tried to refuse, but I made a compelling argument?” Elidibus’ smile is kind, looking at the woman before him. “I will not try to convince you to change your mind. I know that nothing I can say will do so. But I wish you would return to Amaurot. No matter what any others say, you are still Azem. None can replace you. And...in my absence, the Convocation will need you to lean on.”

“I wish nothing more than to return to Amaurot, Elidibus...but I cannot. Not with all that has happened. Not with all that is going to happen. I cannot condone this sacrifice - your sacrifice. Though, even if I am no longer a part of the Convocation, I will continue to travel the lands and aid those in need as I have as Azem. And should anyone call on me, I will answer them.”

The Emissary’s smile turns sad as he nods, acknowledging her desire and her intent. Though it did not avail him to plead to her, he is at least content knowing that she will not abandon anyone. Not that he ever expected her to. “I understand. I do not regret coming to find you, nor asking you this.” Taking a step back, he turns away. “Thank you, Azem...Persephone...for everything.” A part of him regrets leaving her there, regrets that these will be the last words spoken between them, but this is how it must be.


	12. Ultracrepidarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultracrepidarian - expressing opinions on matters outside the scope of one’s knowledge or expertise
> 
> Spoilers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time with this prompt, going back and forth with ideas. Basically, what I ended up with was another argument between Convocation members.
> 
> Because the thing is that we know thirteen of them remained in Amaurot, while the last traveled. One would imagine that there were some hostilities/disagreements (especially with the latest Tales From the Shadows story). It makes it seem like Azem is very stubborn (just as I have always envisioned my WoL), not caring if the Convocation disagrees with them, as long as what they are doing is the right thing. So it kind of plays off of that, and that some of the Convocation members would tend to give their opinions without the same knowledge or expertise that Azem has.

Azem closes her eyes behind her mask, glad that none of the others can see the fury burning in them; the Convocation meeting is going much as she expected it to. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it any easier or any less infuriating. Taking a calming breath, she does her best to focus on what is being said. Those who always stand against her are going on and on about her latest “stunt,” as they call it. But she’s only doing what’s right. Why can’t they understand that? She’s only trying to help their people.

“You went against the Convocation’s decision,” Pashtarot says, his voice raised slightly. “This isn’t the same as when you can use the excuse of us not deciding and you acting before that. This time, we had already made the decision and you willingly went against it. How do you think that makes the Convocation look to our people?”

“I tried doing things the proper way,” Azem cuts in, her voice sharp, startling many present. Usually, she is easygoing, though strong willed. “I brought up my concerns during a Convocation meeting, that I didn’t even get notice of, I’ll have you know. One of the few times I have been in Amaurot when your special meetings occur. Need I remind you that I was drowned out, unable to even speak?”

“Because you knew little of the situation of which you spoke. You argued and argued, but you were unaware of -”

“I knew the situation better than any of you did. Or need I remind you of what my seat’s duty is? You speak as though you’ve been out in the field, seeing what I see. Dealing with the dangers that I deal with. I knew full well of what was going on, and I knew that your decision would not fix it. Of all the members of the Convocation, Pashtarot, you and Fandaniel are most likely to understand some of what I do. But your opinion is based on knowledge outside of your scope.” 

Silence reins in the room, most of those present never having heard such a scathing diatribe from Azem. However, she isn’t entirely wrong. They make decisions, offer opinions, but they are not wont to leave the city; Azem, however, fulfills her duty by wandering the lands, by leaving her home in order to try to make their Star a better place. 

With no response, Azem looks up at Elidibus - who she swears is smiling, though in the dim lighting it could be her imagination. “If you must censure me again for my actions, so be it. But know that I do not regret what I did. That Concept can be recreated. The lives that would have been lost cannot.” She gives a small bow, refusing to allow her anger to get in the way of propriety. “If that is all, I will return to my duties and leave you all to return to yours.”

“Wait,” Halmarut intervenes, his voice just shy of pleading. “You have made a point that...we have always been loath to address. But you’re correct. We offer our opinions, yet some of these things are not our expertise. We do what we feel is right for our world. Yet, whenever you are present, all we seem to manage to do is run you off, instead of learning from you.” Stepping away from the dais, he moves over to their Traveler. “Perhaps you would tell us more of your travels, to help us understand? To expand our knowledge?”

There is no mistaking the smile now, as Persephone glances back at Elidibus. Sometimes she can’t help but wonder if he manages to play things just right to make this happen. “Very well, Arbiter. I will recount my travels to the Convocation, and not simply give a report of the findings.” Azem turns back to face the others, launching into the stories with little preamble, hoping that it truly will give them some understanding of her actions.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooth and Nail - A fight undertaken with all one’s efforts and with the intensity of a wild animal
> 
> More spoilers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably used to the spoiler warning by now. But this one is super short. It just kind of came to me and decided it didn't want to be dragged on.

Emet-Selch fights against it, the pull of madness that threatens; he has already lost both Lahabrea and Elidibus to its pull. Though they are still there, still fulfilling their duties, Lahabrea has grown more and more reckless - something that is so different than he ever was in Amaurot - and Elidibus loses more and more memories by the day. But he cannot allow it to take him.

It’s there at the corner of his mind, even as he lies here, resting after finishing his role as Solus zos Galvus. The cold embrace of darkness allows him to drift, to recall. Once everything is taken care of, their world fixed, their brethren returned to them - his beloved Azem included - he will make sure there are no lasting effects. They will return to being themselves. And, if it truly comes to it, he has a way to fix Elidibus - the Constellation Stone they made for his office truly will help, if the youngest of their number ever chooses to look at it. Should it be required, Emet-Selch will make sure he does.

So he fights the all-consuming madness - despair and rage trying to overcome him - in order to stay himself. The weight of their loss, their world and loved ones, he will never forget. It is what they are fighting for and will continue to do so. And though he knows so many would argue with their cause, they are unable to do so if they do not remember what it is the Convocation fights for. 

He lashes out at the darkness, at the descent into madness it threatens to bring. Even some of their sundered number have been consumed by it. He will help them, as well. Things will not end until they’ve returned their world to how it should be. But it still allows him a short respite as he’s fulfilled his part of their duty. He has no worries other than floating in oblivion, his aether lashing out to push back the despair and rage, hope burning brightly that they will be able to do this.


	14. Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part - a piece or segment of something such as an object, activity, or period of time, which combined with other pieces makes up the whole.
> 
> More spoilers! Yay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really had a hard time thinking of something because of how stressful work has been. I was going to put it off and just skip today, like I did the extra credit day.
> 
> But then I woke up with this idea. So, hope you like.

Persephone finds herself torn; a small part of her - it begins small anyways - regrets having to kill Nabriales. She doesn’t know why. The Warrior of Light assumes it’s simply because she hates having to kill anyone - though she does what is necessary to protect her new home. And yet, this feels different. Like she’s lost something dear to her. So she chalks it up to Nabriales’ death being associated with Moenbryda’s. Even though she didn’t know the woman for long, she does mourn the woman’s death.

But when she has to fight Igeyorhm and Lahabrea, the same ache in her chest begins. The thought of destroying them, in the manner she did Nabriales, gives her pause. She does what she has to - in order to save not only Ishgard, but all of the Source, she tells herself - but that ache only grows. Their losses hit her hard, and she doesn’t know why. Nor can she voice the feeling, knowing that the Scions likely would not understand. So she keeps up the facade; she pretends that the deaths have not affected her.

On the First, she begins to understand. Though the Scions remain dubious of Emet-Selch’s words, she already knows them to be true. And the hints he drops her...they begin to make her wonder. Persephone wants to ask him, wants the clarification. She never does, though. And then it’s too late. The fight with Emet-Selch - no, Hades...a name that resonates with something in her and only makes this all the more painful - is brutal. That part of her threatens to bring her to her knees, even though she knows not only her life, but the remaining life on the First and all of the life on the Source depend on her. And when she deals the final blow, it feels like her heart will shatter, that piece of her crying out in pain.

His final words to her, his entreaty to remember, only make it worse. It takes all she has to keep herself upright and continue on. But continue on the Warrior of Light and Darkness does. Because she’s the only one who can. 

And so she battles Elidibus, the Constellation Stone bequeathed to her by Hythlodaeus burning brightly. She does not want the Emissary’s fate to be the same as the others, but there is little else she can do. She knows he will never stop - and who could truly blame him for wanting their world returned to them? - until he feels everything is set right. 

  
Though it nearly tears her apart when Elidibus is defeated, she kneels before him - before the remnants of the young man that her past self cared for like a brother. She listens to him, to his final words, the very same part that has hurt countless times in the past feeling lighter than before. No, Persephone doesn’t want to see the Convocation destroyed - she refuses to call them Ascians any longer, now knowing the truth, for, in the end, it is not simply chaos they aim for - but she does realize something that takes the burden off of that part of her.

Though they fought for the sake of their world, to try to bring it and those who sacrificed themselves back, their deaths are not in vain. She will make sure the world that exists remembers them for their true selves, not the actions of the Tempered. And she will make sure the world is one worthy of their memory. As she watches Elidibus disappear - bittersweet as it is - that part of her feels lighter, knowing all she does now. And...the Emissary is not wrong. At duty’s end, they will meet again.


	15. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ache - to suffer a usually dull, persistent pain; to become distressed or disturbed; to feel compassion; to experience a painful yearning or eagerness
> 
> No real spoilers. I mean, maybe minor ones. But very minor. And lots of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the idea behind this kind of spawned between me and someone else. A sort of idea that the Convocation members are destined to clash with those closes to them. So, I took Lahabrea's actions and sort of spun this from them. Super short. Hope to expand on it eventually.

It surprises Lahabrea when he begins to feel it; a dull pain in his chest. Not physical, exactly. But the same ache he feels when he thinks of their home, of all they’ve lost. So why he is seeing it when he looks at the mortal before him, he simply cannot fathom. It’s as if he’s seeing a piece of home, a piece he lost. He does not have the skills Igeyorhm or Emet-Selch have, to see one’s soul. So he has no idea who he might be seeing that would make him react in such a way. Outside of the Convocation, there were very few that he considered himself close to.

And yet, seeing this Hyruan male reminds him of someone. Someone he cannot quite place, who was quite dear to him. And both the feeling and the inability to place the other only makes him angry. He is not losing as much as Elidibus, but certainly, there are things not quite as sharp as they once were. And memories are wont to ebb and flow.

Instead, he follows the mortal, watching the ash-blonde Hyruan flirting with women all around. For some perplexing reason, this frustrates and angers him further. Where once he might have been able to keep himself composed, at least to others around, even he knows he is becoming more and more reckless. His desire to see their home restored overwhelming all other thoughts and feelings. So he keeps an eye on this mortal, taking stock of his weaknesses. And when the time is right, he uses it to his advantage, uses this  _ Thancred _ to his advantage. 

But the ache persists; perhaps, he thinks, it grows even worse. The closeness of their souls, the recognition - though he still cannot place it - seems to make it all worse. So he lashes out. At Thancred. At the Garleans. At the so-called Warrior of Light. And even when he is ousted from the mortal’s body, it persists. The mere thought, the simplest reminder, seems to make it worse. And the inability to recognize the other only fuels the fires of his anger, his recklessness growing until it is too late, his very essence devoured by the Primal that Thordan becomes. Defeated, his soul dispersed, by a creature of his own design. In the darkness of oblivion, the ache finally fades into nothingness, his consciousness drifting in blissful silence.


	16. Lucubration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucubration - study; meditation; a piece of writing, typically a pedantic or overelaborate one.
> 
> Little more summary in notes to prevent spoilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Azem decides to submit her lucubration to the Convocation as revenge for being censured. And grapes. She makes sure not to forget the grapes.
> 
> I was in need of silliness after how this week is going work-wise. So...this is what my brain came up with.

Igeyohrm groans as she drops her head to the podium in front of her, mask nearly knocked askew. “What did we do to deserve this form of punishment?” she murmurs, motioning to the sizable stack of papers before her - a stack mirrored on each of their podiums. “Since when has Azem’s writing been so pedantic? Or did she simply feel as if  _ we _ needed punishment for something?” Stifled laughter draws her attention to Emet-Selch, who is looking far too amused for the situation at hand. “Did  _ you _ put her up to creating this...this..lucubration?” Her tone is accusatory, which only makes the other Convocation member have a harder time masking his laughter.

“Why you would blame me, I’ve no clue,” Emet-Selch responds innocently with a half-truth. “Was I not just as frustrated as all of you were. I simply did not agree with the Convocation’s censure, given the good that came of her actions.” A small smirk plays on his lips as he motions to the stack of papers - which he did help proofread out of sheer curiosity. “And clearly she did not either, given her treatise on grapes and their benefits.” Though, he still isn’t certain that everything in what Azem wrote is true, or how much Hythlodaeus expanded on things. It is still rather hilarious to watch the others read it, though.

“I think it is rather refreshing,” Elidibus chimes in, flipping the page of his copy. “I mean, seeing these things from her perspective, given that she has visited more of our Star than us. There’s much in here I didn’t know.” As he continues to read, even Emet-Selch feels compelled not to disillusion him by telling him that much of what’s in there is likely not entirely true.

The others do suppose, however, that this torment is far better than some of her more scathing responses in the past. And, well...they can’t lie that the grapes are rather delicious.


	17. Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fade - gradually grow faint and disappear
> 
> Persephone visits the fading Amaurot one last time.

Persephone knows it will fade away, as well as all of the shades of Amaurotines. But she finds herself returning to Hades’ creation. The image of Amaurot will always be burned into her mind; not to mention the memories that have been returning ever since she used the Constellation Stone. She wonders if Hythlodaeus’ shade is still here - also wondering if it truly is a shade. For him to act in the ways he did, is he truly just a recreation?

“ _ I’m surprised to see you here again, my old, new friend, _ ” Hythlodaeus’ melodic voice rings from nearby, his chuckle resounding through the silence. “ _ I take it you have finished all that you needed to do _ ?”

“Yes,” Persephone whispers, turning to face him; she’s already seen parts of the city that are fading. And she wonders if he will fade away, for her to never see again. “I...didn’t really want to win this time. I mean, I did, but...I didn’t want things to end the way they did.”

Hythlodaeus chuckles again, tilting his head to look at her. “ _ You never did. As I said before, I am not one to judge, departed as I am. But...though Emet-Selch and Elidibus are gone from this world, their memories live on in you now. Though this city may fade, the memory and knowledge of Amaurot will not.” _

The Warrior of Light smiles, closing her eyes. “I suppose you’re right. Will you fade away as well?” She can almost imagine the mischievous smile on Hythlodaeus’ face as he simply shrugs, stating that he does not know. But...that’s alright. Though this place will fade, he is right. The memories will remain.


	18. Panglossian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panglossian - excessively optimistic
> 
> Normal warning of minor spoilers

His overly optimistic views are both what draw them to him and make him wary. They’ve had others, in the past, that have been optimistic - and even now, Azem somehow manages to keep her optimism even when censured - but none have been quite so panglossian as their newest Elidibus. They chalk it up to his age at first; though an adult, he is still very young. In truth, just barely in adulthood. And yet, he seems to be the best-suited for the task of Emissary.

Their previous Emissary had always tried to do what was right for the Star, but...they had also been rigid in their views. This new Elidibus, listens to all. He makes sure that all sides are heard, that everyone is given a chance to speak. In some cases, it infuriates some of the Convocation members - especially when it affords Azem the chance to do something that goes against what the rest of the Convocation has decided. But, they know that what he is doing is right. He is making certain that they all realize the consequences of their actions - or inaction.

And those who doubted in the beginning realize, as Elidibus listens to Azem’s report of her most recent travels, enraptured by the tales of what goes on outside the city, that there was never any reason to doubt. Though his innocence and naivety could have caused them trouble, they realize that, tempered with their knowledge and experience, it completes the Convocation as it should be. His excessively optimistic view brings them exactly what they’ve been lacking.


	19. Where the Heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some minor reflection on Nero's part. Taking place in the alternate future, where the Eighth Umbral Calamity occurred.

In the past, if anyone has asked Nero where his home was, he would have scoffed and insisted that it was simply Garlemald. Now, however, with all he’s been through - all  _ they’ve _ been through - his answer is different. With the coming of the Eighth Umbral Calamity, so much of their world was destroyed, and Garlemald was not spared. So, he rethinks what he would have said as he enters the small home, one of the few that wasn’t destroyed in this area. He looks up, seeing Cid sitting there, looking as exhausted as ever.

Cid looks up as the door opens, his smile strained as he motions to the kettle. “It’s still hot if you want any,” he murmurs before he leans back, eyes closed. “It might not be the best, but it’s something at least.”

Nero snorts as he sits down in the chair opposite Cid. “Figured you’d be asleep by the time I got back,” he says, grabbing himself a mug of the drink; though the other tries to hide it, Nero can tell that Cid is at his wit’s end. He closes his eyes, leaning back to relax. Sitting there, with his former rival, he realizes that, even in the past, he would have been wrong saying his home was Garlemald. No, the saying is correct that home is where the heart is, he realizes. And his home has ever been one to travel.


	20. Foibles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foibles - a minor weakness or eccentricity in someone’s character
> 
> Spoilers if you don't know what they reveal in 5.3
> 
> Takes place in Amaurot after Persephone has just returned from her travels. Hades thinks on her foibles.

Hades groans as he covers his face with his hands; one would think, with how long he has dealt with Persephone and Hythlodaeus, he would be used to these minor eccentricities they show. Unfortunately, these same foibles they exhibit give him quite the headache. For anyone not Persephone - holder of the title of Azem - the certainness that she will always return  _ alive _ would be a pure arrogance. But, since it is Persephone, they all know that that certainness is truly just an inconvenience for the rest of them.

Returning as she is, covered in muck and grime, mask broken, robes frayed, would likely make anyone worry at first glance. But the smile on her face gives pause.

“You should have called on us, Azem,” Mitron chides, looking their returning member over. “Even if we have our arguments and our differences, you know we would come to your aid.” She is relieved when she finds no major injuries, just some small cuts and bruises.

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from here, given the matters you’ve had to discuss lately,” Persephone answers, earnestness in her voice, even as she looks up, smiling at Hades. “Emet-Selch is kind enough to keep me apprised of the situation, so I know that all of you have been busy. Besides, I’ve met a number of people on my travels who have been able to aid me.”

Hades sighs as he approaches, doing his best not to chide her in public. No, his personal worries for her can come when they are in private. “Azem, will you not listen to Mitron?” he asks softly, using his magic to mend her mask and robes. He finds himself ruminating on the minor weaknesses, being unwilling to call on them unless she has to being the top of those. Once again, it would be far worse if she did not meet so many others who could assist her in her travels. But it truly makes them all worry for her and her safety.

Persephone’s smile is gentle, kind, as she looks around at those gathered to greet her upon her return. It isn’t often that the whole Convocation comes to meet her. “You know I always do, Emet-Selch. Should I need to, you know I will call. But for now…” The woman grins and pulls out a few bottles. “The village that I came across gifted me with these after aiding them. They said that the grapes to use them come from a distant island. Only place they can be grown. I was thinking we could all use a glass.”

The only thing that keeps Hades’ hand from smacking his forehead at the overly cheerful change of subject is that there are others around. Though he can’t help but think of her minor weaknesses, her eccentricities, he realizes that some of these are also her strengths; shaking his head he follows the others as Persephone regales them with tales of her more recent travels.


End file.
